


soft in your palm; hungry for a fight

by riverbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sensation Play, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John circles his thumbs on Alex’s tummy. “Don’t worry, baby. I always take care of you, don’t I?”</p><p>Alex continues glaring but it softens a little, and he nods, a bit wary. “It’s our anniversary,” he says, quietly, eyes wide as if he’s just realized it, and John nods.</p><p>“Don’t I always get you a present on our anniversaries?” he asks, pushing Alex’s shirt up with his hands beneath it, dragging his nails over his ribs. “I always have something new for you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	soft in your palm; hungry for a fight

**Author's Note:**

> well here's 4k of tenderhearted porn for saturday morning
> 
> title is from fast as you can by fiona apple

Alex kind of knows he’s in for it when John hauls a champagne bucket into the bedroom.

John’s taken him out to dinner, and his belly’s full enough of Italian food to make him jovial and a little sleepy, and John sets the metal bucket down on the floor beside the bed and slides up on it to crawl to him, tilts Alex’s chin up with his index finger and kisses him gentle, slow. Sweet. Alex swoons, tries to go after him when he finally pulls away but finds himself too comfy, settling back instead against the pillows.

John sits up, fills the two wine flutes halfway, lifts his own in a silent toast as he places the other in Alex’s hand. Alex sips, coughs at all the bubbles. “It’s so sweet!” he laughs, surprised. John smirks at him.

 _“Doux.”_ John says, raising his glass to Alex again before he takes another long drink. _“Goût russe.”_

Alex pulls a face. “The Russians like things dry.”

“History’s not your strong suit, is it, babe?” John sets his glass down on the bedside table.

Alex shakes his head, his loose hair flopping around his shoulders. “I’m more into the future.” He leans back once more, wine in one hand and grabbing John’s shirt with his other to pull him down with him. He casts his best bedroom eyes at John. “You got something for me to look forward to?”

“Besides more French?” John gives him a little peck, savoring the spark of carbonation off his lips. “Dunno, baby. I already took you out and spoiled you.”

Alex shifts his legs open, pouts. John nips at his bottom lip when he sticks it out. “I deserve more,” he says, whining when John takes his glass away from him.

“Do you, now?” John feels himself grin; as crazy as this game would drive him in any other context, now he finds it massively endearing. Alex is inviting him to tease, and, being a goof, John is eager to engage.

Alexander seems determined to convince of his position him by kissing him breathless, and John goes with it, letting Alex past his lips to flick his tongue into his mouth, wrap his own with it and suck. John feels himself relax, lets his body open a bit further; Alex works him over so easily - he’s such a sucker for the man, his quirks, his laughter, his kisses. Alex is still holding tight to the front of his shirt, keeping him firmly against him, pressing them stomach to stomach as they kiss. Alex starts rolling his hips, and then he starts moaning as he finds some friction against John’s thigh, really putting on a show. He doesn’t seem too interested in breaking away, but he does eventually come up to breathe, and then his moans are open and loud as he lets his head loll backward, and John watches him, lets him get himself all worked up while his hands go up under Alexander’s shirt to encircle him at the waist, dragging his fingers lightly up his sides to get there. Alexander shivers under the cool touch, and John smiles, changing his grip to kind of shove Alex down, putting some space between them. When Alex looks up at him he’s somehow managing to give him a death glare even with his pupils dilated.

“You fucking tease,” Alex tells him. John grins mischievously down at him. “Not for long, Alexander,” he says, circling his thumbs on Alex’s tummy. “Don’t worry, baby. I always take care of you, don’t I?”

Alex continues glaring but it softens a little, and he nods, a bit wary. “It’s our anniversary,” he says, quietly, eyes wide as if he’s just realized it, and John nods.

"Don’t I always get you a present on our anniversaries?” he asks, pushing Alex’s shirt up with his hands beneath it, dragging his nails over his ribs. “I always have something new for you.” Alex nods in response, and John leans down over him to whisper in his ear. “Gonna take my time with this one, baby. You gonna be a good boy, be patient for me?” He feels Alex’s body shudder against his where they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, and he pets Alex’s hair. “Good,” he says. He taps Alexander’s hip, his belt. “Off,” he tells him.

Alex scrambles to comply. He hops up, gets the belt undone and his pants off in record time. He looks at John, and John laughs. “All of it, sweetheart. I always want all of you.” Alex shivers, pulls his shirt over his head instead of unbuttoning it and shoves his boxers down. John gasps. “Oh, honey. Look at you,” he says reverently, staring at Alexander’s cock hanging heavy between his legs. “Come here,” he says. Alex kneels on the bed and shuffles toward him, and John takes him in hand when he gets close enough. He lets one hand drift to Alex’s hip while he uses his other to squeeze and stroke Alexander to full hardness, hearing his breath hitch and release as he plays with him. “Mine,” he says, dragging a nail up the underside of his cock for emphasis, and Alex gasps. He’s not doing much and there’s no lube, but Alexander likes the rough drag of this at the beginning, likes to work for it and settle in slowly. John knows; John’s spent considerable time testing reactions from Alexander, cataloguing the things he doesn’t think to tell him.

As for John’s own buttons, there’s definitely something to be said for being fully clothed while Alex is fully nude for him, and Alex knows it. He may not make a show of stripping down, but he makes up for it with the way he performs when he’s bare; he lets his back bow when he draws in deep breaths, lets his thighs quiver but holds himself up against the strain because he knows John notices. John is stirring in his own trousers, watching him - the way he tenses, the way he loses his breath momentarily before catching up to it again. He dives into the side of Alex’s neck, overcome with the need to be close to him, noses his hair back and starts kissing him there, finding a spot he knows he’s particularly fond of and sucking a bruise, something he’ll have to cover with makeup for the next couple days. John loves it, knowing that they are marked with each other. They rarely allow themselves the indulgence anymore; when they had first gotten together it was a common occurrence, but it had quickly started to feel juvenile. Now, when they do it on special occasions, it’s more special, an extra connection. They have a balance struck, an understanding. John knows Alex will dig his sharp nails in and leave red scratches down his back tonight, bite at his tummy and his thighs. Alex cherishes finding his marks again, when they’re a day or two old; the noises John makes when he goes back over them with his tongue are a source of pride for him.

Likewise, John likes to run his fingers over hickeys he’s left as they heal, study the changing colors. Alex can never believe he wants to run his hands all over his skin and just look, so he makes sure to do it often, lay him out and use his fingers and his mouth to appreciate all of him. He saves that for Alex’s bouts of insecurity, or when his mind’s going a thousand miles per hour and won’t slow down, when he really needs a distraction that calls for all his focus; those are the nights he’ll let Alex cry while he worships him, verbal reminders interspersed between the physical ones.

For now Alex is impatient, and that only solidifies John’s determination to take it slow. He wraps himself up in the scent of Alexander’s hair, in the sweat on the smooth skin on the side of his neck; Hamilton moans as John nips at the tender skin just under his ear, and John sighs. He’s stopped rubbing at Alex’s cock and has his arms wrapped around Alex, grabbing handfuls of plump ass to knead with his hands, holding Alex still as he has his way with his neckline. John growls, squeezing roughly, and Alex wiggles his hips, so John pulls back, pulls a hand away and smacks the skin he’s released sharply. Growls again. Alexander yelps, jumps a little, and John leers as he observes the deep blush that comes up on his face.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Alex nods, biting his bottom lip. John leans in to tug it away from him with his own teeth, and as he does so he pushes Alex back, settling in the fork of his hips. He traces patterns on his thighs as he coaxes Alex’s knees to bend, letting him plant his feet surrounding him. John pulls away to breathe, resting his forehead against Alexander’s. “Gonna take real good care of you,” he promises, rolling his hips; Alexander starts at the sharpness of the sensation, John’s clothes against his bareness, and he stares up at John so expectantly. John takes a few more moments to luxuriate in his big eyes, but ultimately, he can’t let the man wait that long without his own heart starting to pump guilt through his veins.

He settles for praising Alex as he goes down on him. “You’re so beautiful,” he says while pressing a kiss to his breastbone; “So good for me, baby,” as he licks in zigzags through the strip of hair below his belly button. Alexander takes a shaky breath and shuts his eyes tight. John wants him, wants to taste him. So he does.

The first few swirls of his tongue around Alex’s perineum are met with only rasps, but when John dips his tongue past the ring of muscle Alexander _howls,_ and were it not for John’s forearms hooked round his thighs Alex would have bucked off the bed. As it is, he’s effectively pinned, and he squirms as best he can to convince John to do that again, at a loss for words. John takes pity on him, looking up across the expanse of Alex’s belly to eye him as he grinds his tongue just inside his entrance, smiling smugly at how taken-apart he looks already. He knows how good he is at this but he never really gets tired of being reminded, never gets tired of being able to make Alexander weak. He often thinks it is his favorite thing that they do; it feels more intimate than pretty much anything else, feels dirty and close and satisfying.

Alex had been so shy at first; John remembers having to coax him, convince him that he loved everything about him, every patch of rough skin and every hidden freckle and every weird scar and even his knobby knees, and it had taken him a while to get far enough down the list to get to his ass, because he’s always been a little ashamed, even still is, about his preoccupation with it; it’s full and round and not as firm as the rest of him, high and pert, and John often lags behind Alex to watch him when they’re out, letting his boyfriend’s wide-eyed distraction lead them and enjoying the show as Alex bounces around with all the extra energy contained in him. When he gets him home on those days of self-torture he likes to lay Alex out and tell him what he’d been mulling over while he’d watched him, every nasty thought he’d had in mixed company. Alex will gasp and act indignant, act scandalized, but he’ll let John squeeze and smack him and eat him out for hours and he’ll moan and arch for John, and for John, that’s victory. It’s partly that, he admits to himself rarely; it’s partly the idea that he’d gotten Alex comfortable, eventually gotten through that wall, convinced him to enjoy himself. But honestly, it’s mostly the noises he makes, the ways his body tenses and shakes loose with John’s efforts, and John is well aware of how good he is with his tongue. It’s the best tool he has, so it follows that he would prefer to use it at every given opportunity.

If it makes Alex like this, he’s happy to do it exclusively. Alex is babbling, _Yesjohnyesjohnyes,_ his hips working to press his ass back against John’s face, his cock hard and leaking curled back against his stomach and he’s clearly not even worried about it, he’s enjoying John’s mouth so much. John pulls back, peppers a few kisses onto the back of Alex’s thigh where he can reach. “I love you,” he says into the supple skin. Alex groans, sounding frustrated. John tries not to take it personally. “Lube,” he says, and he hears the nightstand’s drawer slam before he’s even finished the syllable. Alex is pressing the little bottle toward him frantically. John coats his hand liberally, works the liquid between his fingers to feel it warming. It’s the type that heats up as it’s rubbed in, and he smiles, makes sure to get it good and hot before even touching Alex with it. He runs his hand gently down the underside of his dick, to his balls, slicking them noncommittally, the excess dripping down onto Alex’s stomach and groin. Alex hisses, grits his teeth. He’s already on the edge, John realizes. “Poor baby,” John mourns, shaking his head. “I’m having so much fun. Don’t wanna stop now.”

He leans up, kisses Alex though Alex’s jaw is pretty slack and he can’t kiss back but for his tongue lazily responding to John’s. John presses his face into his shoulder again. “You good, baby? Gimme a color,” he says, still massaging Alex’s balls with his fingertips. Alex huffs against him, acting like it’s the biggest inconvenience in the world to be forced to talk. Figures.

“Green,” he insists, rushed. “Greengreengreengreengreen,” - and he’s whining now - “please, John.”

John can’t argue, not when he’s being so polite. He sits up on his knees so he can see what he’s doing, trails his index finger down Alex’s perineal ridge, over the center of his balls and down to his asshole, circles where his saliva coats. Alex whimpers when he dips a finger in, to the first knuckle, and he resists the urge to sink it in all the way, shaken by how tight he is. He does allow himself a moan, looks up to study Alex’s face. He looks relaxed, so John eases his middle finger in next to his index and starts scissoring him open, eyes trained on Alex’s the whole time for signs of distress. Alex only parts his lips in a debauched O and reaches up, grips the pillow under his head on either side, as if he’s trying to stretch onto John’s hand. And then John accidentally finds his prostate, and Alex sobs, wrecked, squeezes his eyes shut tight and then he moans so loud John’s impulse is actually to reach up and cover his wanton mouth with his palm out of courtesy for the neighbors. But he runs with that thought, instead - the idea of people knowing what he’s doing to Alex, and he feels the blood rush from his head, dizzying him. “Oh,” he says simply, doubling his efforts to find that place inside Alex again, “fuck.”

“Another,” Alex gasps, wiggling back and forth as if to elaborate. John is happy to oblige; Alex is extremely convincing. His hole is wet and open and takes his third finger nicely, and Hamilton is whimpering softly, his eyes closed in focused bliss and his head tilted up and to the side as if to muffle himself into the pillow. John watches him take it - reminds him _So good, baby, you take it so good for me_ as he pumps his fingers in and out of him - and savors the little flicks of Alex’s hips, catches with the corner of his eye the way his cock jumps when he drags against his p-spot. Now it’s thicker, the intrusion, and Alex is struggling through the overwhelming fullness to find the pleasure; John knows because he’s murmuring little epithets to himself, meaningless words that function as prayers. He slows down, lets Alex grind down onto the pads of his fingers at his own pace as he presses right up into his prostate. He feels it bloom open under the attention, feels the way the tension in Alex’s body loosens, and John grins down at him as he fucks him, steady, practiced.

He reaches down into the bucket of ice, and then without warning he presses freezing glass against Alex’s open hole, hot fingers still inside him, and the contrast is so much that Alex shudders, and John switches sensations out so smoothly that Alexander has no time to anticipate; he pulls his fingers out just as he slams the toy in, and Alex arches his back - the toy is just a little bit thicker and much less yielding, and it stretches his walls. John's hands are still wet with the warming lube, and he plays with Alex’s nipples, circling with one finger before tugging a few times on each. “It's gonna be so long before you get to come,” he says, almost to himself, like he's just absently thinking about it. “I have so much to give you, and I want you to feel all of it, baby.” Alex moans - the cold is so sharp that it knocks the breath out of him, shakes him to his core. He shimmies, trying to find more comfort in the sort of clinical feeling of the glass dildo, but John stills his hips with his other hand. “Where you going, baby? Trying to run away from me?” He pinches a nipple _hard_ and Alex groans in apology.

“God, you’re gorgeous. The things you do to me, sweetheart, that mouth of yours, that filthy mouth.” He works the dildo in and out of Alex at a slow drag, letting him shiver as it presses against his inner walls. He trails his slick hand all over Alex’s body as he fucks him with it, and he’d care about how gross it is if he wasn’t so utterly enamored with the sight. Alex’s sweat, the flush on his tan skin, the lube all over him, it all makes him glow, and he’s trying to squirm with the slight discomfort of the cold but panting in pleasure even as he does and John loves him, loves him loves him loves him, so he tells him so, dives into his neck again and murmurs odes to him, and Alex begs him not to stop but then he warns him that he’s close and he actually starts crying as John slows down, overwhelmed and needy and John thinks he’s so beautiful that it might break him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, kissing Alex deeply to soften the blow as he finally pulls the toy out of him. “I need some,” he says, laying a hand his cock through his pants, and Alex scrambles up on the bed, flipping over so he supports himself on his elbows facing John. There are tears on his cheeks and his face is flushed a pretty, deep red to match his kiss-swollen lips, and John moans at the sight as Alex sticks his tongue out between them in focus, unzipping him carefully and letting his pants fall with his boxers to pool around his knees. “C’mon,” he tells John, shoving at his belly. John shivers, lets Alex switch them around so he’s on his back and unbuttons his shirt as Alex removes his bottoms the rest of the way. Alex messes with his dick, slaps it against his own lips a couple times and moans.

“You want that, baby?” John asks, breathless. Alex nods. “Tell me.”

Alex puts his lips on the head of his cock, the little vibrations as he speaks sending shockwaves through John’s body. “I want this in my mouth,” he says, and it looks ridiculous and sounds ridiculous but it’s doing it for John just the same. “Please, Papi, please let me have it. I need it,” and John growls at the nickname and grabs his cock by the base to guide it past Alex’s plump lips, and Alex closes his eyes almost immediately, smiling around him even as he swallows him down to the root and his gag reflex works around him. He forces himself to stay down, looking up at John through dripping lashes as he presses his nose to the thatch of hair below his belly, and John puts a hand in his hair because he can’t look, throws his head back and gasps, trying desperately to get a breath in. He can’t stay lightheaded like this for much longer, can’t handle the way Alex works his fucking throat around him and his tongue is flicking hard against the underside of his head and he hasn’t pulled his mouth off at all, he’s just keeping him against his flexing tongue, his small hands on John’s waist.

He chances a glance down and Alex looks utterly focused, brow furrowed and lips tight around him, and it’s the hottest thing John’s ever seen and he feels a little bad but he just isn’t able to speak to warn Alex of his impending orgasm, but Alex seems to sense the way the muscles in his tummy tighten and jump and just sucks at him harder as he starts shooting off in his mouth and he swallows eagerly around him a couple times which just makes him last longer, gasping Alex’s name along with a slew of endearments.

Alex lets him go soft in his mouth, working him down with his tongue before he finally pulls away and grins lazily up at John. “What do you want?” John asks him, and it’s slightly apprehensive but completely earnest - he isn’t sure what he can do at this point, because his limbs all feel like jelly, but he’ll do whatever it takes just the same.

Thankfully, Alex is merciful, climbing on top of John to straddle his waist, dildo from before in hand. “I’m gonna put this back inside me, because I liked it, and you’re gonna watch,” he says, giving a curt nod, and it’d be a little funny in any other context. John gulps, nods in enthusiastic agreement. Alex leans forward, head beside John’s, and John looks up the slope of his back to where he’s working the toy back into himself and breathes in the scent of his hair, trying to calm himself down but the way Alex is arched, pushing his ass up in the air, is incredible, and he obviously can’t see everything happening but just knowing that Alex is fucking himself in exactly the way he likes is enough to get his cock stirring all over again.

Alex turns his head so he’s panting hot on John’s neck, breath shaky and uneven. And then he starts those soft whimpers again, and that’s how John can tell he’s close, how he can tell he’s about to come apart. He watches Alex’s legs start to shake and a moment later his semen is pouring warm onto John’s stomach and all over his own cock, and John marvels at the fact that Alex hadn’t even jerked himself off to get there. He’d given himself over to one thing, let himself indulge and luxuriate, for John, because he knows John loves it when he savors things.

He lets the thought pass, holding Alex as he collapses on him, their come and sweat drying sticky between them. He kisses the side of his face, and then his mouth as he turns to look at him, and then he rubs his thumb across Alex’s bottom lip. “You’ve got a smart little mouth,” he says, raspy, and Alex laughs at him. _Beautiful,_ John thinks, and thanks God that Alexander can see it in his eyes because he can’t manage much more speech.


End file.
